


People Only Know What You Tell Them

by etmuse



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-04
Updated: 2010-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etmuse/pseuds/etmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a conman on the run, and Agent Jack Harkness is determined to catch him. But then things take a turn for the complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Cardiff, July 2009

**Author's Note:**

> Written for round 1 of the [reel_torchwood](http://community.livejournal.com/reel_torchwood) challenge, using the prompt [Catch Me If You Can](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0264464/).

Jack Harkness twisted onto his back so he could look at the man who had been spooned around him. The light in the bedroom was dim, with only the moon and the streetlight outside the window providing any illumination, but it was bright enough for him to make out the key features of his lover's face.

His gaze swept across the high forehead, down his nose, across the planes of his cheeks. He told himself he wasn't memorising the profile, tried to convince himself that this wasn't the last time he'd ever see this sweet boy he'd come to adore.

It didn't work, so he switched tactics. So what if it _was_ the last time, he told the voice in his head. He'd only know Ianto for a few weeks; all the things his heart was telling him couldn't be true. This wasn't love, not really. It was infatuation, nothing more. He'd have forgotten all about him in a few weeks, months at the most.

He wished he could wake him up, say goodbye, but there was just no way. How could he tell him that this was it? That they would never see each other again, but that he couldn't explain why, or where he was going?

This, he knew now, had to be part of the reason this sort of thing was forbidden.

It was right there in black and white in the mission guidelines he'd been forced to memorise before ever being sent to carry out a task.

_Rule 34: Maintain only the minimum level of contact with the locals required to establish your cover. Do not _

_(i) inform any of the local population of the true reason for your presence_

_(ii) form undue attachments to any member of the local population_

_(iii) give any information to any member of the local population that should not be known in that time period_

He'd always assumed that the rule was just part and parcel of the overarching directive that an agent should not, whatever he or she or it did, tamper with the timelines. They were there to fix them, not to break them all over again.

He stroked a finger very gently along the arm that Ianto still had wrapped around his torso, hoping that the touch wouldn't awaken him.

He hadn't intended to break the rule – it wasn't a rule he'd ever broken before. That wasn't to say he hadn't enjoyed himself, but joyous, wild, abandoned sex wasn't really the same thing as 'forming an undue attachment', was it? And could they really expect him to resist when they sent him to the places they had?

His roommate in the training core had had a catchphrase. 'So many species, so little time.' Jack had led a relatively sheltered existence until his arrival at the Time Agency, and the phrase had stuck with him. In the three years since he had graduated as a fully qualified agent, he had set out to live his life by that maxim.

And then Ianto had happened.

On paper, this mission hadn't looked like the most exciting proposition. Simple monitoring job to make sure the timeline didn't bend so far that it broke, few weeks' work at the most. And in the 21st century, on Earth.

Most of the population hadn't even _met_ tentacled aliens yet. Jack had just wanted to get the task over and done with as quickly as possible; in, out, onto the next thing.

He certainly hadn't been expecting that he would, in boring old 21st century Cardiff, with nothing but other humans around, completely by accident, meet the most beautiful and enchanting young man he'd ever seen in all of his twenty-two years.

He had bumped into him on the way into a coffee shop one morning – literally. Ianto had only just escaped having his coffee spilled all down the front of his shirt, the hot liquid spilling only onto the pavement instead.

Jack had apologised very offhandedly, not really looking where he was going, and then he had looked up. A pair of intense blue eyes had arrested him and he had frozen on the spot.

He had hurried to apologise more sincerely and ushered the man back into the coffee shop, assuring him he would buy him a new coffee to replace the one he had spilled.

He'd introduced himself as they waited in the queue, his voice uncharacteristically tentative. By the time they reached the front, they had started to chat lightly, and it took the barista asked them five times before they even realised that they _had_ reached the front.

Jack had ended up very late to his monitoring station that morning. He'd never asked what Ianto had been headed to that morning, but he suspected that he might have been a bit late too.

By the time they'd left the coffee shop, Jack had been smitten.

Ianto – much to Jack's relief – had seemed to be much the same way, and a few days later had seen them wrapped up in each other almost to the exclusion of all else.

Jack had still managed to get in the hours of monitoring required to complete his mission, and the day before, the last chance there had been that the timeline would snap had passed.

His mission was over, and he knew he had to return to base. Return to 5049.

Leave Ianto.

He hoped Ianto hadn't noticed anything different the night before – he didn't want to worry him. Although he knew it would hurt Ianto for Jack to just disappear on him, he didn't want those last memories to be tainted for Ianto by night-long suspicions.

He knew he had to get up and leave, but it was so hard to do. So hard to climb out of a warm bed with a man he was utterly besotted with and travel back three thousand years into the future to a place where he'd never see him again.

He shifted over onto his side, facing Ianto, drinking him in in one long look. Watching the moonlight play across his face, down across the top of his naked chest.

He really didn't want to leave, tearing himself away was torture, but he had no choice.

Very slowly, trying to make sure that he didn't wake Ianto up in the process, he rolled away to the side.

Ianto snuffled and roused a little as Jack carefully stood up from the bed. He froze and turned back.

The sheet slipped a little further down Ianto's body, baring him almost to the waist, but he didn't wake up, instead snuggling closer into Jack's now empty pillow.

Jack backed away, picking up his clothes and slipping into them as quietly as possible. His vortex manipulator was in his pocket – just to be sure, he wouldn't put it back on until he was safely away from Ianto's little flat.

He wanted to go back, give Ianto one last kiss, a kiss to really remember him by. He didn't.

He couldn't bring himself to just leave, though.

He rummaged cautiously through the collection of detritus on Ianto's desk, locating a notepad and a ballpoint pen.

He hovered for a moment with the pen above the paper, trying to think of what he should say. What he _could_ say.

_Sorry._

_Jack_

He tore the page off the top of the notebook, folding it once and setting it on his empty pillow.

Leaving a note… it felt almost primeval, and it definitely wasn't something he'd normally do, but…

He picked up his jacket and strode towards the door. He paused at the threshold, turning back around for one last look. The note was visible on the pillow beside him, and Jack's heart clenched.

He dropped the coat back over the chair and, picking up the pen, returned to the side of the bed and picked up the note.

Leaning on the wall, he made a few modifications. They weren't much, but Ianto had to know, even if Jack wouldn't be around.

_Sorry._

_Love,_

_Jack_

_xxx_

Steeling himself, he put the note back on the pillow and – not letting himself risk another last look – he swept out of the door.

* * *

Ianto shivered slightly as a slight breeze blew across his body, and screwed his eyes up against the sunlight streaming through the open curtains. He reached over to touch Jack, to curl against his warmth, and felt nothing but cool sheets.

He opened his eyes. The other half of the bed, which for the last several weeks had been occupied by Jack almost every night, was empty. He was certain it hadn't been when he'd gone to sleep the night before.

He felt the sheets again – yes, definitely cool. Jack had been up for a while.

It felt odd. Every night so far that Jack had stayed over, he had still been there in the morning, curled up around Ianto, with his chin almost invariably snuggled into the crook of Ianto's neck.

Waking up after a night together to find him gone… It hurt more than Ianto wanted to admit to himself. This was just a fling, a bit of fun while he took care of some business. It wasn't supposed to be serious.

Yes, he'd already delayed his departure by over a week because of it, but… that didn't mean anything, really.

He'd already been here for nearly two weeks when he'd first met him. Just setting things up, creating the illusion of a life here, the illusion he'd need when he went in for meetings.

He hadn't really had anywhere specific to be that morning, but had stopped off at a little coffee shop that had sprung up between the last time he'd visited Cardiff and now. Coffee in the 20th and 21st centuries was just – in general – so much richer than he'd ever managed to find anywhen else.

It had been a nice day, so he'd thought of a nice cup of coffee to take with him on a wander around the city, to see what else had changed in the intervening decade.

He hadn't, admittedly, been watching where he was going as carefully as he might have been when he exited the café, cardboard cup in hand. But he hadn't been expecting someone to come barrelling straight into him, and definitely hadn't been expecting to be barrelled into by a gorgeous chisel-jawed Adonis.

He'd only barely managed to make his body move quickly enough to avoid a shirt-full of hot coffee.

He'd looked back up and found himself staring into clear, intense blue eyes. It took him a second to recognise that this handsome stranger was urging him back into the coffee shop, offering to buy him a replacement coffee for the one he'd just tipped at his feet.

They'd introduced themselves in the queue at the counter, and before they'd even realised, it had been hours later and they were still talking. Everything had just spiralled right out of control from there.

He sat up, intending to pull on some clothes and check the rest of his flat – just in case Jack was only up reading, or – well, no, not watching television; he couldn't hear anything.

There was a crinkle on the bed next to him, and he reached out to see what it was.

It was a note – he searched his memory, trying to recall everything he'd read about the twenty-first century. Was leaving a note the done thing right now if you abandoned a lover in the morning without saying goodbye?

He opened it, read it.

_Sorry_.

Ianto's heart clenched. Sorry for what? Sorry for leaving that morning? Or sorry for something else, something more serious?

He got up, got dressed, and rummaged around for the clunky mobile phone he'd been using since he arrived. He pressed the button he'd designated to phone Jack – no answer.

His business having concluded a week ago, Ianto had nothing much to do the rest of the day except fritter away the time and try to contact Jack.

When, by lunchtime the next day, he had still had no luck in contacting him, he had to face the facts. Jack was gone, and he hadn't said if or when he'd ever be back.

All Ianto had was an apologetic note and a 'love, Jack'.

He told himself this was a good thing. He should have been gone himself ten days ago. He just hadn't been able to find a good way to break it off with Jack before he went. Jack had taken the problem out of his hands; he should be pleased.

Instead, all he could feel was an ache inside, and he wondered if this was what heartbreak felt like.

He didn't have the time to dwell, though. He wasn't getting any younger; he had places and times to be, and keeping busy would surely keep his mind off Jack, right?

He pulled a backpack from the cupboard and started collecting up anything from the flat he wanted to take back. Most of it could just stay – he was bound to end up back here at some point, maybe in another five or ten years, just to be safe.

It was so much easier now to maintain a flat without having to actually be there – the small number of bills that actually required paying when he wasn't there could be done automatically, unlike when he'd first bought the place in the 1970s.

He took a pile of the clothes, a few knickknacks he'd picked up that he liked, all of the paperwork regarding his business here. Packed them carefully into the backpack – it wasn't like he was in so much of a hurry that he couldn't take the time to fold his clothes and pack neatly.

And the note. He couldn't quite bring himself to leave it behind, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it would be better if he did.

His lifestyle just wasn't compatible with those sorts of attachments – especially not when they were made in the wrong century entirely. And even ignoring everything else, he was only twenty-one – he had plenty of time to test the waters before he even _thought_ about settling down.

He tucked the note into a side pocket of his bag, replacing the vortex manipulator that had previously occupied the small space.

He opened the flap and checked a few readings – yep, the signal scrambler was still working just fine, and the Time Agency would still believe this particular manipulator had never even left the equipment warehouse, and had certainly never left the 51st century.

He took one last look around the flat. Nothing was too out of place, but it still looked believably lived-in. It would be okay for a while, until he needed to return to this century again, _if_ he needed to return again.

He strapped the manipulator onto his wrist, and set the coordinates for the middle of the 34th century. One quick little stop to check up on a few details, transfer a few accounts, and then it would be back to 5058.

Back to his 'real' job, where no one would even suspect he'd been gone.


	2. Chapter One: Chaneuve Penitentiary, Jextron 4, February 5060

Jack shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he stood in the foyer of the correctional facility, waiting for someone to come and meet him. He'd already explained to the man at the desk why he was there.

He grimaced at the condition of the building around him – it didn't look like it had been maintained properly for centuries.

It was certainly out of the way – he couldn't imagine why Ianto had chosen to come out here, not for any reason. And if he ever had to be imprisoned, this was the absolute last place he'd choose for it to be in.

Eventually, one of the prison security team came to find him, and took him through three secure gates and then down a long system of corridors. All around there were signs of disrepair and neglect, and - Jack shuddered - it wasn't the cleanest prison he'd ever visited.

The conditions just got worse the further into the system they got, and Jack grimaced thinking of Ianto in these conditions. The last time he'd seen him, although it had been so very brief, he'd been happy and healthy – and lying through his teeth, of course.

He just hoped that he and his department held enough sway with the rest of the Time Agency managers that they would agree to his plan. They may have finally caught him here, and technically the travel authorities did have a case to hold him, but Ianto couldn't stay out here.

Jack had always known the conditions here were some of the worst in the known and explored universe, but he hadn't expected them to be quite like this.

It had taken some serious pleading and the cashing in of a favour or two even to get permission to come and speak to Ianto tonight. He was supposed to be in solitary confinement.

The temperature was starting to drop as they walked down the final corridor, and it was distinctly uncomfortable when the security officer finally stopped and pointed him towards a hard plastic chair next to a closed and locked reinforced door.

The guard banged hard on the door once then stepped back.

"Don't try to pass him anything through the slot. You've got half an hour," the warden said before stalking off – presumably back to a more comfortable, warm section of the prison.

Jack peeked with difficulty through the tiny slot in the door. He could just make out a small, broken-looking figure huddled in a thin blanket in the corner of a lumpy mattress.

"Ianto!" he called. There was no response. "Ianto?" he tried again. "Hello? Ianto!"

This time Ianto's head lifted slightly, but he didn't speak.

"Come on, Ianto, talk to me, please," Jack continued. "It's Jack. And I know you know who I am. You know who I was, too, even if you pretend that you don't."

"Please, help me," Ianto said, his voice scratchy. Jack hoped it was just from disuse and not from any illnesses that he might have picked up in the cold and unsanitary conditions he was being held in.

"That's why I'm here, Ianto," Jack said. "I'm trying to get you out of here."

Ianto looked up properly, and Jack could almost meet his gaze through the tiny slot in the door. "Why?" he croaked, breaking off into a coughing fit. "What do you want to do to me?" he asked when he recovered enough.

Jack quenched the random rush of images his much younger self provided him with at that question and concentrated on the matter at hand. "I want to take you back with me, to Earth. Then you'll be locked up for a very long time, and quite deservedly, but it will be in somewhere better than this hellhole."

There was a pause, and Ianto dropped his gaze back to his knees. The blanket had dropped away a little, and Jack could see now that all he was wearing under it were a set of thin scrubs. He had to be freezing – no wonder his voice was hoarse and he was coughing horribly.

Jack sank into the chair he had been provided with, unable to bear looking any more.

"Please." The single word was quiet, and husky, but Jack could still make it out through the door.

Jack sighed – it was a start at least. Despite the conditions, he'd been worried Ianto wouldn't want to come back, even if he could get the higher-ups to agree to it. Jack wasn't without influence – fifteen years of hard graft through the ranks had seen to that – but when the prisoner in question was on quite so many 'wanted' lists as Ianto was, they could be rather particular.

"Ianto," he started, not quite sure how he should best word it. "I'm really trying, and I'm going to keep trying, and with a bit of luck I might manage to have you out of here and on a transport with me back to Earth tomorrow morning, but there are a few things you could do that would really help me out."

There was a shuffling behind the door. Jack twisted so he could look through the slot again and noticed that Ianto had shuffled to the closer end of the mattress. Closer now, Jack could see how thin Ianto had become just in a month spent in this dreadful place. He dreaded to think what he would look like when he'd finished his entire sentence.

"Like what?" he asked scratchily, looking up at the slot in the door.

"Plead guilty; confess," Jack said matter-of-factly. "It would definitely make those in management think a little more favourably on bringing you back into Earth's on planet legal system."

Jack thought that Ianto started to say "No," but it was interrupted by another coughing fit.

"Just think about it," he urged. "With the manner of crimes you've committed, a full confession would definitely go a long way to easing how harsh they'll want to be on you. You never physically hurt anyone directly, you weren't intending to be malicious, but they'll never understand that if you don't confess."

"How do _you_ know?" Ianto asked, looking at the floor and rubbing at his chest as he tried not to launch into another coughing fit.

Jack sighed and looked at him – he was still so young. "It may have been a lot longer for me than it has been for you, but I do remember you, Ianto. I remember what you were like. Obviously, I didn't know at the time what you were up to, but I don't think that negates everything I learned about you as a person."

He smiled a little. "You're not a cruel man. Just maybe a little more opportunistic than I knew about back then. I know you want to do this, really."

Ianto looked back up, and Jack waited with bated breath for his answer.

* * *

Ianto jumped a little at a bang on the door, and then settled back against the wall, pulling the thin blanket tighter around himself. There were a multitudes of bangs and noises outside the door nearly every day, and the only time they actually meant anything was when it was mealtime.

He no longer had a watch, and in solitary confinement there was no way to tell if his circadian rhythm had gone off track, but he didn't _think_ it was another mealtime yet.

Then there was another noise. After over a month – well, by his best estimates anyway – with no real human contact at all, it took him a moment to realise that it was a voice. And that the voice was calling his name.

The man, for now that he was listening he could tell that it was a man's voice, called out to him again, and he lifted his head a little in acknowledgement.

"Talk to me, please. It's Jack. And I know you know who I am."

The voice continued speaking, but Ianto's wasn't listening to the words anymore. He was simply analysing the voice in his head, matching it up to those from his memories. Yes, it was Jack.

Jack, his onetime lover, and more recently, his… he would hesitate to call them enemies. Yes, they had been on opposite sides of an epic cat and mouse game for the last eighteen months, but Ianto wasn't even sure he'd go so far as to call Jack his nemesis. They were certainly _something_ to each other, however indefinable that something was.

"Please, help me," he said, surprised at how sore it made his throat to talk. He'd been coughing painfully for over a week, but having had no one to talk to, he hadn't tried. But now, Jack was here, and Ianto really, really hoped it wasn't just to gloat that he'd been caught finally. The trap had snapped closed and the mouse would run no more. He just couldn't live like this.

"That's why I'm here, Ianto. I'm trying to get you out of here."

Ianto's head snapped up and he looked directly at the tiny slot in the door that was usually only used to pass food through. If he squinted, he could just about make out part of a face on the other side. "Why?" The word irritated his throat, and a wave of coughing overtook him for a minute.

When it finally abated, he looked up again. The offer sounded far too good to be true. "What do you want to do to me?" he asked. Each of the possibilities that rushed through his brain was less fun than the last. He strained to hear Jack's reply.

"I want to take you back with me, to Earth."

Earth. The word was almost synonymous with a heaven in Ianto's mind. It couldn't have been longer than a couple of months – in his personal timeline, anyway – since he'd last been there, but his living conditions since made it seem so much longer.

In comparison, even the dingiest homes he'd occupied on Earth in the past seemed like perfection. Although he knew that he wouldn't get even an option as nice as that if he was taken back to Earth.

But Jack had continued. "Then you'll be locked up for a very long time, and quite deservedly, but it will be in somewhere better than this hellhole."

Ianto continued to look at that slice of face though the door for a moment, then dropped his gaze to his own knees. Would being locked up on Earth really be that much better than being locked up here? Especially knowing that he was likely to be sentenced for a lot longer on Earth, as they'd be taking a lot more into account.

He shivered, the thin blanket and scrubs not doing much to counter the chill of the air. He glanced around the walls; the cell was dark, and dingy, and even less comfortable than he'd ever imagined a prison cell would be. He wasn't sure he'd even survive his entire three year sentence in this place; he felt awful after just a month or so.

Yes, it would be worth it. He looked back up at the gap in the door, but Jack's face was gone.

"Please," he said quietly. _Get me out of this place. Save me._

He thought he heard Jack sigh, but through the thick door, and with his own breathing loud in his ears, he couldn't be sure. "Ianto, I'm really trying, and I'm going to keep trying, and with a bit of luck I might manage to have you out of here and on a transport with me back to Earth tomorrow morning, but there are a few things you could do that would really help me out."

Ianto frowned and shuffled down the mattress he was sitting on, closer to the door. What on Earth could he do when he was stuck in a dank prison cell? "Like what?" he asked, looking up intently at the slot in the door. Jack's face reappeared a few seconds later.

"Plead guilty; confess," Jack said, his tone sounding almost pleading to Ianto's ears. "It would definitely make those in management think a little more favourably on bringing you back into Earth's on planet legal system."

Ianto shook his head uncertainly. Confess? He didn't like the sound of that – surely a confession would just result in an even longer prison sentence, especially if he inadvertently confessed to something they hadn't actually known about. It seemed completely unintuitive.

"Just think about it," Jack urged. "With the manner of crimes you've committed, a full confession would definitely go a long way to easing how harsh they'll want to be on you. You never physically hurt anyone directly, you weren't intending to be malicious, but they'll never understand that if you don't confess."

"How do _you_ know?" Ianto couldn't help but ask. Jack seemed to be very confident that he knew Ianto's motivations, that he knew all about his actions the last few years. A tickle started in his throat and he rubbed at his chest, trying to avoid another painful coughing fit.

"It may have been a lot longer for me than it has been for you, but I do remember you, Ianto," Jack told him. "I remember what you were like."

Ianto sighed to himself. It had been nearly two years since he met Jack, on one of his little 'business' trips, but he knew it had to be at least ten years for Jack. And he'd never confirmed that it _was_ him, but once Jack knew the whole of what he'd spent his time doing, there was little point denying it.

"Obviously, I didn't know at the time what you were up to, but I don't think that negates everything I learned about you as a person. You're not a cruel man. Just maybe a little more opportunistic than I knew about back then. I know you want to do this, really."

Ianto paused and looked back up at what he could see of Jack's face. If this really was his one chance to make it out of here, even if it meant a longer sentence, should he take it? Was Jack right, would a confession – even a partial confession – get him off this planet and back on Earth? Get him a more lenient sentence?

Deciding to trust Jack's superior knowledge of the inner workings of the upper echelons of the law enforcement divisions of the Time Agency, he took as deep a breath as he could manage without sending himself into a coughing fit and nodded.

"I'll do it," he said quietly. "I'll confess."


	3. Chapter Two: Earth, June 5058

Jack ripped his manipulator off his arm and threw it across the room. What use was it being able to travel through the vortex to outrun criminals and fraudsters when, it appeared, they could too?

This one was smart, and the case was giving him a headache. Three and a half million credits had been siphoned off into this guy's hands, and that was just in the last four months. Who knew how much more might have gone missing before then, that they just hadn't connected to this same case?

He sank into his desk chair and looked over the pile of papers on his desk one more time. They'd missed something, again. Somehow this guy was pulling the wool over their eyes, and Jack didn't know how he was doing it – he didn't like it one bit.

Four times they'd thought they might just have a handle on the guy, might just have worked out where he was going to be next. Four times they'd either been dead wrong or just a little bit too late. Their mark was outsmarting them somehow.

They knew he was smart – he'd managed to bypass numerous systems to prevent the sort of fraud he was committing, and no systematic checks had been able to pick the activity up. And they simply didn't have the manpower required to go through every relevant transaction by hand to pick him up quickly.

Jack picked up the latest report – it had evidently been left on his desk while he was out. The latest account had been traced back even further, and was right back into the 22nd century now.

Whoever this was, he was dedicated – everything took a lot more work when you got as far back as the 22nd century.

He dropped the report on his desk and leant back in his chair. It had been nearly a decade since he'd been anywhere near the 22nd. Back in the days when he'd still been practically a rookie, still in the regular Agency forces.

Back when he'd been overly determined to live life to the full, and virtual notches on his bedpost had been more important than just about anything else.

That trip had been the beginning of the end of that level of hedonism, he realised when he thought back on it. Just a few short weeks, barely into the 21st century let alone the 22nd, but during them, he'd been knocked for six by a beautiful boy, barely younger than himself at the time.

They'd had a whirlwind affair, spending every spare moment together for several weeks. Jack had barely managed to think of anything else the whole time, despite being on a job.

He'd found himself tumbling into love for the first time in his life, and as much as it had hurt to have to leave him behind and return to his own time, the experience had changed Jack – whether it was for the better or for the worse he hadn't quite decided yet. Over the following year, he'd come to realise that meaningless encounters – no matter how exotic the creature was or just how flexible they were with their tentacles – just couldn't match up.

Not that he'd stopped flirting, or didn't enjoy all of the varied pleasures that the universe could provide sexually, but jumping from random bed to random bed no longer held the appeal that it once had.

It was how he'd found himself transferring from the regular force into the more specialised and settled field of Temporal Fraud. He still got to travel all over the known universe, visit time periods he wouldn't see any other way, but more nights than not, he was able to sleep in his own bed.

It made maintaining both friendships and romantic relationships much easier when he could make plans to meet someone for lunch or go to a movie and know that – unless something really huge happened in a case – the chances were that he would actually be able to make it.

And the job itself wasn't so bad.

Most of the time it was a rewarding field – he knew he was doing something useful, and it was just challenging enough to keep him thinking. This one was something different though.

He didn't even have a clue as to the identity of the perpetrator yet. Usually by a few weeks into a case they had a name, often even a picture and a few known addresses. It was just a matter of tracking them down. Not with this one.

Four months in, and they had nothing. Even descriptions of the guy seemed to vary wildly depending on who they asked. They knew he had the appearance of a human male, but from there on there was nothing they could say for certain.

And even the human male thing wasn't completely certain – there were products to be found on a few planets out on the fringes of the galaxy that would give a false appearance of species, although they were notoriously unreliable and in more cases than not, actually dangerous.

Despite himself, Jack was a bit impressed. And more than a little bit intrigued. He wanted to know how he was doing it. He wanted to watch him in action. He wanted to sit down with the man and have a conversation – about anything. Jack harboured a suspicion that he would be an interesting conversationalist.

Most of all, he wanted to be the one who finally caught him.

This little cat and mouse game would eventually end, and Jack was determined to be the winner. Whoever this man was, he was clever, but Jack knew that he and his team were too.

And no one was perfect, especially when they were trying so very hard to be. Eventually, he would slip up, and then Jack would have him. He just had to wait for that one tiny mistake – he and the team were watching closely, and they wouldn't let that opportunity pass them by.

Toshiko, his senior officer, poked her head in his office door. "Hey, Jack, I'm heading out. So are the others. No point hanging around here beating ourselves up over this all night." She looked at Jack pointedly. "He got lucky, that's all. And he's good at hiding his tracks. He'll make a mistake eventually."

Jack swivelled around back and forth in his chair and nodded. "I know. And I promise, I'll go home soon. Now go, make the most of what's left of the evening, and I'll see you tomorrow."

Jack listened as she left the office, and the faint noises from outside in the main department floor quietened as she and the others went home.

He picked up the new document on his desk one more time and skimmed through it. They were getting closer to catching him, he was sure of it.

Another twenty minutes of deep thought and paperwork perusal later, he pulled himself to his feet and picked his manipulator up from the floor next to the wall. He rubbed a finger over the front – no damage sustained, thank goodness. The Agency _said_ they were indestructible, but Jack was never quite sure how far to believe that.

He looked back at the files on his desk once more as he closed the door behind him.

Just one little mistake.

* * *

"Finish reading pages sixty-eight and sixty-nine in the textbook, and see if you can answer the questions on page seventy before next week," Ianto said as a low buzzer sounded, signalling the end of class – and, Ianto noted when he looked at the clock, the end of the day.

The class of trainees all dutifully nodded as they got to their feet and filed out of the room.

Checking first to make sure that the door was closed and locked behind them, Ianto went back to his desk. He picked up the textbook that he'd been using to teach all but one of his classes that month. He flipped forward – the classes had been working on pages in the mid and late 60s, depending on how quickly or slowly any particular class was moving.

He stopped when he reached page eighty-five, set the book down on the desk, and started reading. He was trying his best to stay at least twenty pages ahead of the class, lest he be discovered.

It was actually proving very interesting. He'd been using these theories, indirectly and without even really noticing it, for months. He wasn't sure he'd actually be able to use the appropriated vortex manipulator any better for having read it, but he definitely understood a lot more about why he had been so successful in using it so far.

Most of the kids – and he'd somehow developed a habit of calling them kids, despite the fact that many of them were older than even he was, and none of them were more than three years younger than him. Of course they all thought, as his employers did, that he was twenty-eight, but that was another matter entirely.

Most of the kids in his classes wouldn't even get their hands on a vortex manipulator for at least another six months. But by that point, they'd know all the theory like the back of their hands.

He read through another four pages, answering the questions at the end of the fourth page and checking his own answers with the 'teacher's answer booklet'. It wasn't as hard as it was made out to be.

Still, teaching was beginning to get a little boring. He'd been doing it a long time, and as much as working in the Time Agency training college was useful from an equipment and information point of view, it wasn't necessarily the safest place to work, considering what he was doing.

He just didn't know yet what he should do next. Maybe after his next trip he'd have a better idea.

He looked again at the clock, and realised just how long he'd been there past the end of classes. If he stayed much longer, it would start to look suspicious.

And if there was one thing he was desperate to avoid, it was looking suspicious.

He packed up his things and prepared to go home. It had been a long week, and he was glad it was the weekend now. He knew that, in theory, he didn't actually have to work. At least not for another few years. He had enough credits stashed away in various accounts to see him through another decade, if he didn't fritter it away.

But not to work would look even more suspicious than doing the job he was doing would.

And besides, he _enjoyed_ it. He couldn't bear just sitting around and doing nothing, had never been able to bear it. Even as a kid he'd been bored when left with nothing to do – his parents had kept him perpetually busy, to keep him out of trouble, or so they had said.

He repressed a sigh at the thought of his parents. They'd been torn out of his life so suddenly, and nothing had quite felt the same since.

As he locked his classroom door behind him, he pondered the idea that it was time for another little trip. There were opportunities just waiting to be taken advantage of in all sorts of times and places. A trip to somewhere or somewhen a little bit different, with a dash of business thrown in on the side to keep things interesting, could be just what he needed this weekend.

He would have to look into his papers when he got home, make a decision on a time and place.

Barcelona, 3135? No, he'd dismissed that one before. The opportunities there were fantastic, but he'd never liked the sound of the place. Artelon 4, 2978? He shook his head. Lovely place – or at least it had been when he'd been there on holiday with his parents as a child, in 5047 – but the systems there were just a little bit too complex when he was really looking for a nice easy, relaxing trip.

No, really, he needed somewhere that was still on Earth. It opened up a lot more opportunities, as he could go much further back if he stuck to Earth. Oh, there were a number of planets out there where he could probably fit in well enough not to be noticed in their own pre-space-travel eras, but he wasn't sure he wanted to risk it.

Not yet, not when there were still so many safer options still waiting for him.

He flicked through another chunk of the pile of papers on his little desk in his study. Almost all of them could be immediately discarded – either off-world, or just in downright dives of locations or time periods.

He was never going back to 24th century Earth again, not after what he'd had to put up with the last time. And the same went for anywhere in central Africa any earlier than the 37th century.

After perusing the shortlist he'd left himself when he'd discarded all the definite 'no's, he finally fixed upon a location, and a time period. He hoped the house was still in good repair. It would definitely need a good clean when he arrived, but he wasn't aware of any major incidents in the intervening time, no world wars or the like, so he assumed it was probably still standing, still filled with the detritus he had accumulated the last time.

He pulled out his trusty backpack, and filled it with all the items that would be necessary for a stay of anything up to a fortnight. Important items so he could acquire or forge the required documents when he arrived, personal care items, a few clothes – he knew he had quite a few clothes still there from his last visit, but he suspected – having researched the fickleness of the fashions in those early centuries – they would be conspicuously out of date by now.

With everything stowed safely away, he pulled his – or, well, he called it his, the Time Agency would no doubt beg to differ – Vortex manipulator from the secret compartment in the drawer he stored it in when he wasn't using it.

He pulled on a coat, strapped the manipulator to his wrist, settled the backpack on his back and entered the co-ordinates. He pondered for just a moment and then settled on July – at least there was a chance it would be warm and sunny.

Cardiff, Wales, 2009. Just the place for a little business holiday.


	4. Chapter Three: Earth, August 5058

"We got a tip-off!" Owen called, leaning his head into Jack's office. "Some hotel owner pretty sure he's got him staying in his hotel."

Jack sighed and looked up. "Are you sure this isn't just another wild goose chase?" They had been on far too many of those in the last few months. Someone thought they'd found a sign that they had the guy staying with them or at their restaurant or whatever, they'd go rushing over there and it wouldn't be him.

Or even worse, it appeared that it _had_ been him, but they'd missed him.

"Sounded fairly legit to me," Owen said.

Mentally crossing his fingers, Jack grabbed his jacket and joined Owen and Toshiko as they ran out of the door.

They pulled up outside the hotel in question a few minutes later. "Stay out here, watch the door," Jack told the others. "We don't want him getting away if he _is_ in there."

"Are you sure you don't want us in there for backup?" Owen asked a little bit uncertainly.

Jack shook his head firmly. "He's a fraudster, not a gangster. He's not going to be armed and dangerous, is he?"

Toshiko looked at him critically. "Are you sure?"

Jack grinned. "I'll be fine, trust me. And just watch that door."

Jack pushed through the front door of the small hotel, and after a brief conversation with the owner, who had been waiting for him at the reception desk, he had a room number. Drawing his blaster just in case, but keeping it discretely by his side, he climbed the stairs, and crept quietly through the hallways until he reached room number 212.

Just as he approached the door, counting along the door numbers… _206, 208, 210_... the door to room 212 opened and a man stepped out, a box in his arms. Jack couldn't see his face as he was facing the other way, but he wasn't taking any chances.

"Freeze!" Jack yelled reflexively, lifting his blaster and pointing it at the man. "Put your hands on your head and no one needs to get hurt!"

The man turned around slowly and smiled disarmingly. "Sorry, you're too late. My partner and I already apprehended him as he tried to make his way out of the window. He's being taken down to our vehicle down the back of the hotel right now."

Jack blinked, couldn't quite believe his eyes. He tried to tell himself it couldn't be true. It couldn't be possible that the man in front of him was who he looked like to Jack. "Sorry, but who are you?"

"Oh sorry, my name's Jones, I'm with the Shadow Proclamation Fraud Squad. We've been after this guy for months," the man said, still smiling in a mild-mannered fashion. "You surely didn't think you were the only one?"

Jack shook his head numbly. His brain was whirling around in circles. It just _couldn't_ be…

"Do you have any ID?" he asked, a little bit shakily. He just needed to know that what his brain was telling him wasn't true. There was no earthly way it would be possible.

"Sure," said the man, who couldn't be who Jack thought he was. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a battered plastic chip card. "Take it. Although would you mind taking the blaster out of my face? I'm not a big fan of having lethal weapons pointed at me."

Jack put the blaster down and holstered it, reaching out and taking the chip card. He didn't activate it; he would never have offered it had it not been correct.

"Thanks," the man said. "We're supposed to be on the same side, after all. And I'm sorry for you – if you'd been just a few minutes earlier you could have snagged the big catch for yourself."

Jack nodded, his whole mind still not concentrating on the current events properly, part of it still suppressing the thoughts he'd had the moment the man turned around.

"Do you mind keeping an eye on the room for me for a moment?" Jones said. "I can't really just leave it alone, but I really want to get this stuff down to the vehicle so we can finish up here and get away back to our base."

Jack nodded, and Jones started to walk away in the direction of the stairs. At the end of the corridor he turned around and faced Jack again.

"I didn't catch your name, by the way," he called.

"Jack," Jack replied. "Jack Harkness."

"Again, I'm sorry we beat you on this, Jack. You were so close."

He turned back and was about to start down the stairs when Jack looked down and realised he was still holding the man's ID chip card.

"Hey, don't you want your card back?"

Jones shrugged a shoulder dismissively. "I'll get it when I come back for the rest, it's fine. I trust you not to do anything to it."

With that, he disappeared down the stairs.

Jack watched him go, frowning.

He leant against the wall next to door 212 for a moment, blowing out a breath.

He spun the chip card between his fingers idly.

When Jones hadn't returned several minutes later, he looked down at it, a horrible thought starting to come into his mind.

He held the card out in front of himself and pressed the indentation on the side to activate it.

Nothing happened. He tried again, and still nothing happened.

It was a blank.

He slumped down against the wall. He'd had him literally within his grasp and he'd let him go. After all these months, this was the most frustrating near-miss to date.

His head dropped back, slamming into the wall, and yet another thought hit him. He'd been telling himself that his first thought couldn't be true, purely because of the timescales involved.

Ianto would have been dead three thousand years ago. There was no way he could be here in the mid 51st century.

But the man they were after, the man who had been dodging them all this time, was travelling in time somehow – he'd yet to figure out quite how he was doing it.

The similarities had just been too striking to ignore. If he discounted the time difference entirely, he wouldn't have had any doubts that the man who had been standing in front of him just a few minutes ago was Ianto Jones, the intriguing man he'd met and fallen in love with a decade ago in the 21st century.

If it truly was him… Jack sighed, utterly confused. He didn't know what that meant. For him or for the case.

He wasn't even sure if he wanted it to be Ianto or not.

If it was… Ianto hadn't seemed to recognise him. And he looked so young. He hadn't changed at all from the man in Jack's memories, and it occurred to Jack suddenly that it was entirely possible that Ianto hadn't recognised him because he hadn't actually _met_ him yet.

But then, he hadn't appeared to recognise him back in 2009 either. If – as Jack was becoming more and more convinced was true – it _was_ Ianto… which time had been the lie?

* * *

Ianto put a few more things into his box. He didn't think he'd need anything else today, and he wouldn't be leaving anything valuable in the hotel room.

He knew it was a bit ironic, but he never quite trusted these little low budget hotels. Who knew who might get into your room when you weren't there? He could never bring himself to leave anything important in one when he wasn't there.

He stepped out of the room door and was just turning to pull the door shut behind him when there was a voice yelling behind him. "Freeze! Put your hands on your head and no one needs to get hurt!"

Ianto did freeze, for a moment, without conscious thought. A second later, plan in mind, he slowly turned around to face the man with the blaster.

And nearly froze all over again. The man in front of him was older than he remembered, but it hadn't changed so much as to be unrecognisable.

If it wasn't him, he'd eat his hat – well, if he had a hat to eat. It didn't seem like it was possible, but this was it. His eyes flickered momentarily towards Jack's wrist, and he saw the vortex manipulator that he expected.

His sudden disappearance, 3050 years or two months ago depending on whose timeline you considered it in, now started to make sense. He'd learned a lot about the agency in the months he'd worked at the Academy. He knew that once a mission was over, agents were expected to return to their own time period in a matter of days.

And that letting anyone outside the agency know who you were, and when you were from, was an absolute no-no.

It didn't erase the hurt, but it did ease the pain.

Of course, if Jack was in the Time Agency, and he was _here_, then that meant…

He couldn't let Jack know that he recognised him; he had to stick to his original plan.

He pasted a disarming smile on his face. "Sorry, you're too late," he said mildly. "My partner and I already apprehended him as he tried to make his way out of the window. He's being taken down to our vehicle down the back of the hotel right now."

Jack stared at him for a moment, and Ianto wondered if he recognised him too, or if it had been long enough for Jack that he'd forgotten him. The thoughtful frown that furrowed Jack's brow for just a fraction of a second had something in the back of Ianto's mind hoping that he was at least still vaguely familiar.

"Sorry," Jack started, "but who are you?"

A little speck in Ianto's heart sank, even as Jack's lack of recognition helped him in his current bid not to be identified as the man Jack was after.

"Oh sorry, my name's Jones," he said, keeping his tone as mild-mannered as possible. "I'm with the Shadow Proclamation Fraud Squad. We've been after this guy for months." He smiled lopsidedly. "You surely didn't think you were the only one?"

Jack shook his head. He looked a little bit shell-shocked, and Ianto began to reconsider his conclusion that Jack hadn't recognised him. Jack appeared to shake himself a little. "Do you have any ID?"

He seemed uncertain, confused, and Ianto wondered if something deep in Jack's subconscious or in the back of his mind did recognise him, and he was trying to place him, or trying to prove to himself that Ianto wasn't who he thought he was.

Ianto shifted his box of belongings into one arm and dug into his left trouser pocket. He pulled out an identity chip card that he knew was blank – he obviously couldn't hand over his real one. He held it out a little awkwardly. "Sure. Take it."

As Jack moved a little closer to take the card, the fact that the business end of his blaster was still pointed at Ianto suddenly rushed back into his awareness. "Although would you mind taking the blaster out of my face? I'm not a big fan of having lethal weapons pointed at me."

There was a beat, and then Jack lowered the weapon, putting it back in the holster at his waist.

"Thanks," Ianto said, relieved now he wasn't in immediate danger of being shot. "We're supposed to be on the same side, after all."

He reshuffled the box in his arms, and offered some encouragement to prop up his story further. The last thing he wanted was for Jack to start suspecting him before he had a chance to get away. "And I'm sorry for you – if you'd been just a few minutes earlier you could have snagged the big catch for yourself."

He smiled amicably and indicated the room to the door with a sideways nod of his head. It was definitely past time to be making his exit.

"Do you mind keeping an eye on the room for me for a moment?" he asked. "I can't really just leave it alone, but I really want to get this stuff down to the vehicle so we can finish up here and get away back to our base."

He had obviously sounded convincing, because Jack nodded immediately.

Hiding his wide grin, Ianto walked past him and started for the stairs at the other end of the corridor.

A thought occurred to him, and he couldn't ignore it – for multiple reasons. Firstly, it would make his cover seem a little bit implausible if he didn't ask, and secondly, he really just had to make sure. As certain as he was, there was one last little bit of confirmation he could get.

He turned back as he neared the stairs and faced Jack. "I didn't catch your name, by the way," he called out.

"Jack," Jack called back a moment later. "Jack Harkness."

Ianto hoped that his reaction didn't show on his face or in his body language. There was knowing it, and then there was _knowing_ it. The man in front of him was the man he'd fallen head over heels for barely months before – although much longer ago for Jack – and now they were on opposite sides of the law and if that wasn't a barrier, nothing was.

He took a small step backwards. "Again, I'm sorry we beat you on this, Jack. You were so close."

After one last look, he turned away, and was about to start down the stairs when Jack's voice called him back. "Hey, don't you want your card back?" He waved the ID chip card at him.

Ianto shook his head slightly and lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "I'll get it when I come back for the rest, it's fine. I trust you not to do anything to it."

He turned and went down the stairs, trying not to make it too obvious that he was in a hurry. Reaching the bottom, he turned left instead of right and slipped surreptitiously out of the back entrance.

There was no one outside, and he ran to the end of the road before sliding into the throng of people along the busy main road.

As he made his escape, his mind kept drifting back to that hotel corridor. The man he'd fallen in love with so recently, and a man who was determined to see him 'behind bars' as they said.

It was almost heartbreaking that they had to be one and the same.


	5. Chapter Four: Earth, December 5058

Jack pushed the keyboard away and rubbed at the tension building in his forehead. The others had all gone home hours ago to their families and friends, but he couldn't bring himself to leave quite yet.

It wasn't as if he had anyone to go home to anyway. With all the time he'd been putting in on this case, and the shock to his system that seeing Ianto again had been, his personal life was really nonexistent.

He'd long ago lost count of how many records he had scoured, trying to find a match to Ianto. The automated processes had all failed entirely, and going through by hand was taking a very long time. Even with all four of them working on it for at least part of their time.

He was just about to pull the keyboard back and get started again when his communicator buzzed. He scrabbled around on his desk to find the answer button and smacked it with the palm of his hand.

"Harkness," he answered, curious as to who would be calling him at this time.

"Hello, Jack," said the caller. "Merry Christmas."

The voice sounded familiar, but Jack couldn't make himself believe that the person it sounded like would actually be calling. He cleared some more papers away on his desk and glanced down at the caller display – identity withheld. Of course. "Who is this?" he asked, trying to suppress the kernel of hope that it _was_ who it sounded like.

"Jones, from the Shadow Proclamation Fraud Squad."

Jack's jaw nearly hit the floor. "Ianto, it's you."

"Do you know how hard it is to actually track you down and get put through to your desk?" Ianto replied, frustratingly not quite answering the question at all. Through all this time, Jack was still looking for confirmation that the intelligent, sneaky fraudster he'd been hunting and the man he'd met so long ago in Cardiff were one and the same. "You'd think no one knew who you were, the number of departments I had to go through to find you."

"What is it that you want, exactly?" Jack asked, suspiciously.

"I just want to tell you that I really am sorry for what happened in August. It wasn't my intention to make a fool of you, honestly."

Jack scoffed. "Yeah, right. You'd have done anything to get out of there, and you should know that it just made me even more determined to do anything necessary to track you down and put you away for a long time." He surprised himself with quite how vehemently he actually meant the words. Even if it was Ianto – no, _especially_ if it was Ianto.

People couldn't just make him look the fool and get away with it. That wasn't how he worked.

"So, Jack, do you always work this late on Christmas Eve?" Jones asked on the other end of the call.

"I volunteered," Jack told him, frowning. "So the rest of my team could go home to their families early."

"You're not married? You don't have a family?" There was an odd tone to his voice, and Jack couldn't quite discern its meaning.

"No, I've never been married," Jack replied, wondering idly why he was admitting to this.

"Why not?"

Jack sighed. "Look, if you just want to talk, let's do it face to face."

"Sure," Jones responded, surprising Jack. "I'm in suite 3113 at the New New Astoria, in ancient New York."

Jack started to write the number down and then stopped, his eyebrows furrowing. "Oh, no, you're not going to get me like that. You just want me to send a team over there, barging in on Christmas Eve, so you can make a fool of me all over again."

"I swear, I'm sorry if I made a fool of you," Ianto insisted. It almost sounded sincere.

"You don't have to lie to me, Jones," Jack said firmly. He glanced at the clock again, and realised that in less than forty minutes it would be Christmas day. And Jones had chosen _now_ to call him up. "You didn't just call me to say sorry, did you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jones scoffed.

Jack shook his head a little bit sadly. "You have no one else to call."

* * *

Ianto took the tray of food off the automated room service drone and took it back into the suite.

It was at times like this that he missed being in the past, when room service was provided by a friendly hotel employee rather than a machine.

Not that he was lonely, he assured himself, but… a conversation companion wouldn't exactly be frowned upon right now. It had been a long few months; the latest job he'd taken on had looked interesting, but didn't leave him with nearly as much free time as he'd like.

He'd quit, find something new to sink his teeth into in the new year, he decided.

He cut determinedly into the steak on his plate, pouring all of his concentration into the meal.

As he spooned the last bite of dessert into his mouth, he picked up his communicator and looked at it. But who could he call?

He pressed a few buttons and got through to a contact he still had at the Time Agency – one who had never known that he wasn't really supposed to be there.

Forty-five minutes later, he finally had the right department, and the right desk extension.

He took a deep breath, fiddled for a few moments to make sure his location couldn't be verified from the other end of the line, and pressed the button to connect the call.

"Harkness." Jack sounded a little uncertain, and Ianto checked the clock. Ahhh.

"Hello, Jack," he said, waiting for Jack to recognise his voice. Hoping Jack _would_ recognise his voice. "Merry Christmas."

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Who is this?" Ianto's heart sank a little, but he knew he shouldn't have been so surprised. If Jack hadn't recognised him from the past when they'd actually met a few months ago, how likely was it really that he would recognise his _voice_?

"Jones, from the Shadow Proclamation Fraud Squad," he said, knowing that Jack was unlikely to have forgotten _that_.

He heard a sharp intake of breath. "Ianto, it's you."

Ianto sat back, wracking his brain to remember if he'd ever given Jack his first name in August. He didn't think he had. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more sure he was that he hadn't. The only time he'd ever given Jack his name was back in the 21st century when they'd first met.

Which meant that somehow, even though he'd given no indication of it, Jack _did_ remember him. Ianto didn't know quite how to react to that, but he knew he couldn't let Jack know that he'd noticed.

"Do you know how hard it is to actually track you down and get put through to your desk?" he said instead, bringing his mind back into the present and steadfastly ignoring the past. "You'd think no one knew who you were, the number of departments I had to go through to find you."

"What is it that you want, exactly?" Jack sounded suspicious.

Ianto had to think – what _did_ he want? Why had he chosen to call Jack, of all people? He searched around his thoughts and said the first sensible thing that came to mind. "I just want to tell you that I really am sorry for what happened in August. It wasn't my intention to make a fool of you, honestly."

Jack scoffed, clearly not believing a word of it. "Yeah, right. You'd have done anything to get out of there, and you should know that it just made me even more determined to do anything necessary to track you down and put you away for a long time."

Ianto couldn't deny that, although he _was_ sorry that he'd made Jack look stupid, there was a ring of truth in what Jack said, so he changed the subject swiftly. He looked up again at the clock. "So, Jack, do you always work this late on Christmas Eve?"

"I volunteered," Jack replied. "So the rest of my team could go home to their families early."

Ianto blinked in surprise, the question coming out before he could censor himself. "You're not married? You don't have a family?"

"No, I've never been married," Jack said quietly.

"Why not?" Ianto cringed and wished he could take back the question almost as soon as he asked.

"Look, if you just want to talk, let's do it face to face."

Ianto hesitated for a second, and took a chance. "Sure, I'm in suite 3113 at the New New Astoria, in ancient New York."

He didn't know what he would do if Jack actually did believe him, and came over. He wasn't really in the mood for running that night.

Luckily, a moment later, it appeared he didn't have to worry. "Oh, no, you're not going to get me like that. You just want me to send a team over there, barging in on Christmas Eve, so you can make a fool of me all over again."

"I swear, I'm sorry if I made a fool of you," Ianto insisted, speaking honestly even if he knew there was little chance Jack would accept that.

"You don't have to lie to me, Jones," Jack came back with immediately. "You didn't just call me to say sorry, did you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ianto said, knowing he was being defensive, but not wanting to admit to anything.

There was a moment of silence before Jack's voice came back over the line softly. "You have no one else to call."

Ianto hit a button to hang up, reality crashing in too hard.

He really didn't have anyone else, and he had to find a way to change that.


	6. Chapter Five: Earth, July 5059

"You're never going to believe this," Toshiko said as she came in and perched on the edge of Jack's desk. She waved a file at him, and Jack snatched it.

"What?"

"I think I've found our mysterious agent Jones. Or who he was a few months ago, anyway."

Jack flipped open the folder eagerly, reading the top page swiftly. He wasn't more than halfway down the page when he drew back in shock. "He worked at the Agency Academy?"

Tosh nodded. "Until about seven and a half months ago. Teaching introductory temporal mechanics."

Jack reeled. That hadn't been an easy course to _take_, and Jones – he would keep calling him Jones until he had a better name to call him – had somehow been teaching the course, without any training, and without anyone noticing that he shouldn't be there. Despite himself, he was impressed.

"And we have no idea what he's been doing since then?" he asked Tosh.

She shook her head. "Not yet, but we're working on it. We have a place to start though, so that's more than we had this time yesterday."

Jack nodded. "It's something."

It wasn't much, but it was something.

Three days later, after a lot of searching, questioning and painstaking examination of surveillance footage and ID cards, they'd found him again.

Jack really wasn't sure how Ianto had managed to convince the hospital board that he was qualified, but after four months of employment, he must have been doing something right in order to keep his job.

Jack pulled up records from several months on performance at the hospital in question, and couldn't see any difference between the numbers for the shifts where Jones – or Doctor Johnson as he was apparently calling himself now – acted as lead consultant and those for the other (presumably properly qualified) doctors on staff.

The only trouble was that once again, they were too late. 'Doctor Johnson' had left the hospital a month previously.

Jack was getting more than a little frustrated at always being one step behind.

Owen called out in triumph late that evening, after a day of calling around everyone they could contact from the hospital.

"You got something?" Jack asked hopefully.

Owen grinned widely. "I know where he's gone."

* * *

Ianto smiled up at his girlfriend – no, fiancée, now – over her parents' dining table. Her parents had gone through to the other room, leaving them alone, and he was enjoying just looking at her. Before he met her at his last job, he had been feeling so alone for far, far too long.

"Are you really going to join my dad in his law practice?" Lisa asked him. "I thought you liked working at the hospital."

Ianto nodded – the hospital was a lot of work when he didn't really know anything about medicine. "Of course I am. I said I was going to, didn't I? And I've got the required certificate to practise on this planet now, so there's nothing stopping me."

Lisa smiled back. "Thank you for doing this. I hadn't seen them for so long, and I wasn't sure I'd ever manage to convince them to let me move back to the planet, even."

Ianto reached over the table and stroked the back of Lisa's hand. "I'm glad I could do this for you," he said sincerely. "And I'm looking forward to it, honestly. Like I told your dad, I've missed being a practising lawyer. It will be good to get back into it."

Frankly, he was terrified. He had learned enough to pass the certification exam, but actually being in a courtroom scared him beyond measure. It was far too close to his fear of being caught, but compared to treating patients at the hospital where his actions could have immediate life-changing consequences, this was preferable.

After nearly two weeks, he was starting to get the hang of it. He was up half the night most nights poring over texts, trying to keep up with what he'd need to know the day after, but during the day, he thought he was covering very well.

And then, one day, getting out of his vehicle after a day at work, he saw them. Or saw something.

There was definitely someone watching him from the darkened vehicle on the other side of the road. He was so sure he had covered his tracks, but what if they actually had caught up with him this time?

He started towards the front door, intending to find Lisa, get them packed and get out of there, but then there was a very definite movement in the vehicle across the street.

Abandoning his plan, and regretting that he wouldn't get the chance to ever see Lisa again, he began to walk swiftly back to his own vehicle.

He'd stashed the vortex manipulator under a seat several months back, just after his last business trip. He dived into the driver's seat and pulled it out, strapping it on swiftly and just hitting the button for it to take him back to his last travelled-from location. He didn't have time to choose anywhere else.

And it appeared that he no longer had the luxury to settle down with friends, loved ones, a home or a job for several months at a time. They were getting closer.

From now on, he was going to have to be a lot sneakier. Even if that meant staying on the move and relegating himself to the less attractive areas of the populated universe.

Whatever happened, he couldn't let them catch up.


	7. Chapter Six: Earth, April 5060

Jack stood at the back of the courtroom, trying to sink into almost nonexistent shadows, and waited for the sentencing to be passed down. Ianto's confession had been accepted, and would be taken into account, he knew, when they issued the sentence.

He found himself oddly torn. Ianto had kept him chasing for eighteen long months, and had nearly ruined Jack's entire career more than once. For that, Jack hoped he was sent away for a long time.

And yet, there was a kernel in his heart that hoped for the exact opposite, even after all these years.

Ianto was still so young, despite his crimes, and Jack couldn't be certain if his inconvenient feelings for the man were anything more than nostalgia for an important period in his own youth. Nevertheless, as much as he tried, he could come to no resolution in his head as to what he really wanted from this sentencing.

* * *

Ianto's fingernails bit into his palms as he clenched his fists tight, his eyes locked on the door through which the judge would pass when he had decided on the sentencing.

He hoped Jack had been right. He'd taken his advice, and confessed to the crimes they'd accused him of, and he was counting now on the judge taking that into account.

He knew there was no chance he was going to get away without doing some serious time – he'd pulled the wool over the eyes of too many huge and important organisations for them to look the other way and give him a light sentence. He knew too that the fact he wouldn't tell them where all the money was didn't help – he'd tried, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. They'd already seized all that they'd found.

And after all, when he did eventually get out, he'd have to live, right?

He twisted around and looked about the courtroom. The room was full of people he didn't recognise. Some of them were probably people he'd conned in the last couple of years, but he couldn't truly remember.

Right at the back of the room, his eyes skipped right over the dark figure at first, before snapping back to look more closely. Jack must have noticed him looking, as he offered a half-smile.

The door at the front of the courtroom opened with a swoosh and Ianto spun quickly back to face it, solemnity sweeping down his face.

The judge climbed the few small steps and sat down behind the high desk.

Ianto did his best not to jitter as he watched the judge's face nervously, looking for any sign at all as to the harshness of the sentence that was about to be passed.

"Considering everything," the judge began what seemed like eternity later, "including both your refusal to return the money and your admission of guilt, I feel it is fair and just to sentence you to fourteen years in a high security detention facility. Also considering your skill in impersonation and confidence trickery, I will be recommending that the majority of this should be spent in a restricted unit, with limited interaction with other inmates and very limited visitation."

Ianto swayed back on his heels and blinked. _Fourteen years. Limited visitation._

It wasn't as bad as he had feared, but faced with the impending reality, Ianto wondered if he might not just go insane.


	8. Chapter Seven: Earth, December 5060

Jack waited impatiently on one side of the transparent barrier that separated the visitors from the inmates.

He wasn't entirely sure what had brought him here; he hadn't even realised he was coming until he pulled up outside the gate.

A guard appeared a few minutes later, Ianto trudging along behind him.

Jack could see the surprise on Ianto's face as he was led towards a seat in a booth on the other side of the barrier.

"Merry Christmas, Ianto," Jack said, knowing that Ianto could hear him now that he was seated in the booth.

"Yeah, merry Christmas," Ianto said dully. "Why are you here?"

Jack shrugged. "I'm not sure I know. They do say the first year inside is the hardest."

"Well, you put me here," Ianto mumbled. "So what do you want now?"

Well that was a question. What _did_ he want? "Maybe this was a bad idea," he sighed. "I should get going anyway, I have somewhere to be."

Ianto perked up a little. "Oh? Where?"

"Chasing a guy down, we got a tip about where he might be hitting next. Driving me nearly as crazy as you did."

Ianto chuckled brittlely. "Oh yeah? You got any data on him? How he's doing it?"

Jack hesitated, looking around him, and then pressed a button on his wriststrap, displaying a holographic image of what they had collected so far on the guy.

Ianto leaned in and looked at it. "And where did you say you were headed?"

"I didn't," Jack pointed out.

Ianto just looked at him.

"Frexnon Alpha," Jack obliged. "In the late 40th century."

Ianto shook his head. "Oh, no no no. You've got it all wrong…"

* * *

Ianto followed the warden down a long corridor, wondering what was going on. He hadn't been outside the tiny cluster of cells he was held in for months. He knew it was approaching Christmas-time, because one of the guards had been humming some of the ancient Christmas songs for a few days now.

But that didn't explain why he was being led down a corridor he didn't recognise.

The end of the hallway opened out into a large room, a mostly transparent barrier across the middle and several small enclosed seats along the side of the barrier.

He looked around the room – realising that this must be the visitors' room – and spotted Jack, sitting uncomfortably on the other side of the barrier.

The guard he was following led him over and directed him to sit down in the chair opposite Jack.

"Merry Christmas, Ianto," Jack said almost as soon as he was settled in the seat. Ianto glanced around in mild surprise as Jack's voice appeared to emanate from the booth walls around him rather than through the barrier.

"Yeah, merry Christmas," he replied, not really seeing what was so 'merry' about it. "Why are you here?"

A frown passed across Jack's face. "I'm not sure I know. They do say the first year inside is the hardest."

Ianto hoped so; things surely had to get easier from here. "Well, you put me here," he pointed out. "So what do you want now?"

Jack almost seemed taken aback. He moved as if to stand up. "Maybe this was a bad idea. I should get going anyway, I have somewhere to be."

"Oh? Where?" Ianto couldn't help but be curious – Jack was the first outside face he'd seen in over six months.

"Chasing a guy down, we got a tip about where he might be hitting next," Jack told him wearily. "Driving me nearly as crazy as you did."

Ianto chuckled "Oh yeah? You got any data on him? How he's doing it?" Anyone who could drive Jack and his team crazy was clearly worth some interest. And he'd been out of the loop for too long.

Jack looked from side to side and then held his arm up close to the screen, pressing a button so that a screed of information scrolled past Ianto's eyes.

Ianto leaned in and looked more closely. There was definitely a pattern emerging – even if Jack couldn't see it, Ianto could see what this guy was up to. "And where did you say you were headed?" he asked innocently.

"I didn't," Jack responded.

Ianto looked away from the data, looked at Jack, the question in his eyes.

"Frexnon Alpha," Jack admitted a few seconds later. "In the late 40th century."

Ianto hesitated, wondered if he should do this. After a few seconds he shook his head. Jack was being led on a wild goose chase. If this man was going anywhere near Frexnon Alpha, in the 40th century or not, Ianto would eat his hat.

And he didn't see the harm in giving Jack a helping hand – it wasn't like it was going to cause him any trouble on the inside, not in the unit he was in.

"Oh, no no no," he said patiently, working out quickly in his head how best to explain to Jack what was really happening here. "You've got it all wrong. What he's doing, is…"


	9. Chapter Eight: Earth, December 5063

Jack ushered Ianto through the door and into the cosy flat he had lived in now for more than a decade. "Home sweet home," he said brightly. "And for the next few days, you can think of this as home too."

Ianto smiled at him gratefully. "Thanks for inviting me," he said softly. "I… I wasn't really sure what I'd do with myself over the Christmas holiday. The only thing I have in my life at the moment is work, and without that…"

Jack nodded, and waved him towards the row of hooks next to the door where Ianto could hang up his coat. "Holidays can be difficult when you don't have anyone," he said. "I know that from experience. It's the main reason I invited you – it's as much for me as it is for you."

Ianto shrugged out of his outerwear and followed Jack through to the living space.

"Besides," Jack continued as they sat down. "It's almost a tradition now, isn't it?"

Ianto frowned at him. "What is?"

"Us spending Christmas together," Jack elaborated. "Four out of the last five years we've spent some time together over the Christmas holiday, one way or another. Although that first year we _did_ only speak over a call, but it still counts."

Ianto's head tilted to the side. "I guess you do have a point. And I should confess, those Christmas visits the three and a half years I was in prison were more or less the highlight of my year."

Jack grinned. "Really?"

"Well, they probably would have been no matter who you were," Ianto replied, teasing a little. "You were the only visitor I had. And Christmas was the one time I knew I could actually expect a visit, rather than you just showing up with case notes. I didn't see anyone but you, the guards and the five other inmates in my unit until this year just before I got out, when I think nearly everyone in any position of power in the Time Agency visited me at some point to interrogate me."

"But it was worth it, though, in the end? Right?" Jack asked, his eyebrows raising to his hairline, his mouth twisting.

Ianto bobbed his whole upper body. "Yeah, it was worth it. It meant I ended up spending Christmas here, in this flat, instead of locked up." He smiled at Jack. "It gave me the first job I didn't lie my way into in my whole life." His head shook slightly. "I'm not sure I'll ever understand why you went to all that effort, but…"

"Because _you_ were worth it," Jack interrupted. "You helped me solve cases we never could have cracked on our own, and you… I just hated seeing you in that place. I know I was the one who sort of got you in there to start with, but you didn't belong in there. So it was worth all the months of work and all the favours I called in to get you out and into my custody."

Ianto opened his mouth to protest but was quelled at the stern look in Jack's eyes. It occurred to him that he shouldn't really complain about the fact that he was now – for all intents and purposes, despite the official designation that he was in Jack's care – a free man.

It was still taking some getting used to – it had only been a month so far, after all – and he knew it would be years before the threat of a return to prison stopped hanging so closely over his head. When he'd been released, there had been no specific timeframe on what could only be described as his parole. And no details given of what, exactly, would constitute a reason for locking him up again.

"You were wasted in there," Jack said, interrupting Ianto's thoughts. "We need you out here." He smiled, shrugging slightly self-consciously. "_I_ need you."

Ianto blinked, swallowed hard, and smiled back.


	10. Epilogue 'Title Card'

**JUNE 5095**

IANTO JONES WENT ON TO DEVELOP NEW TECHNOLOGY TO PREVENT TEMPORAL BANK FRAUD, USED IN BANKS ACROSS THE UNIVERSE FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS.

HE IS PAID GENEROUSLY FOR THE USE OF THIS TECHNOLOGY – BILLIONS OF CREDITS ANNUALLY.

SINCE HIS RELEASE FROM PRISON IN 5062, HE HAS HELPED TO CATCH DOZENS OF THE MOST ELUSIVE FORGERS AND FRAUDSTERS IN THE UNIVERSE.


End file.
